You Should Really Water Those Plants
by ihadtoputitsomewhere
Summary: Huck is my favorite character hands down. Maybe it's because he's so damaged and emotionally crippled and I just want to give him a hug all the time. I really don't know. These are just a series of one-shots between Huck and Olivia, with a little bit of Quinn thrown in the mix. Enjoy!
1. You Should Really Water Those Plants

Olivia walked into his office to find Huck in his desk chair, which was turned towards the window. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, but were still trembling. He's murmuring something- numbers maybe, the same thing over and over. Huck didn't hear her come in, and jumps a bit when Olivia shuts the door.

"Huck," she said softly, almost at a whisper. When he didn't respond, she tried again. "Huck, you okay?" She walked over to his chair. She leaned up against the shelves that were lined with technical equipment and cocked her head to the side, trying to read him. Huck bowed his head and slowly removed his hands from his pockets. He stared at them intently, trying to hard to make the shaking cease.

"I'm okay. Really I am. I just- I don't-" Huck stammered.

Olivia stepped beside him and placed one hand on his shoulder. Almost instantly, she felt him relax at her touch. She loved that, the way he trusted her. There were less than a few people in Huck's life who hadn't screwed him over, and she was one of those people. Huck's hands steadied, and Olivia moved her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, gently squeezing as she moved. She could feel the tension in his neck being released. Huck rested his head in her hand, his eyes fluttering shut. He loved that, the way he felt safe with her. He could trust her, and would follow her over a cliff. Huck inhaled, and Liv could hear the shakiness in his breath as he let it out.

"You can tell me." Olivia started. "You can trust me." She walked around so that she and Huck were facing each other and crouched down. "Whatever this is, whatever happened to you... you can tell me. I'm here for you, Huck. And I'm not going anywhere."

Huck looked up, meeting her gaze. His face was expressionless, but his eyes... his eyes screamed at her. They reflected pain, sadness. She could see it, all these years of trying to be strong, not only for her, but for himself too. She could see him unravelling. Liv took his hands in hers, and as she did, Huck let out a sharp breath. He gripped her hands tightly and bit down on his bottom lip hard to stop it from quivering.

"Uh, when I was recruited by B-613, I was fresh out of college. I was a soldier, a Marine stationed in Kosovo. I got home after taking a bunch of tests. They told me I had a job interview. But when I got there, they knew everything, about me and my job and my family. Everything. They said I was special, that they could test 1,000 men and not find one like me. Charlie was there, he was gonna kill me if I said no, so I said yes. And from that moment on my identity, my real name, my old life, my family... it didn't belong to me anymore it belonged to them, to the U.S. Government. They owned me, and they still own me, Liv. I can't- there's nothing... there's nothing I can do I- I thought I was free, but I'm not. Command, your father, he controls me, he still controls me. I go home and I try to be... normal. I want to be normal to be, free. He owns me Liv, he owns me, he owns me." Huck's voice broke, and Olivia pulled him in tight. His head rested on her shoulder, his arms in his lap. She had one hand on the back of his head, the other stroking his back. Huck was now sobbing, his body shook violently in her arms. Her eyes filled with tears, but she held them back. She needed to be strong, Huck needed her to be strong for him. She furrowed her eyebrows and blinked away the tears. Olivia lifted Huck's shaking body. He was staring at the ground, his breathing uneven and quavering.

"Huck, look at me. You are the strongest person I have ever met. You've been through more in the past 5 years than any man should have to go through his entire lifetime. You have seen more, done more, been more, and had more done to you than anyone should have to. And yet, you still fight. You still rebuild that wall that so many people have tried to destroy. I know that you can do this, you can fight this. You are a gladiator and you can do anything. I will help you, I will be here, right here with you. I am not going to hurt you... I won't let anyone hurt you. You do whatever you have to do to push through and I will be by your side the entire way. You're a good person, Huck. What happened in the past is over, it's done. You can let it go. You don't have to keep your guard up, hold your gloves in front of your face, constantly look over your shoulder. You're safe here, Huck. With us, with me. You're safe. And you're never alone. I'm here. Im not going anywhere."

Huck looked at her, his brown eyes bloodshot. He nodded. The kind of nod only she would understand. It was an apology, a thank you, and a confirmation all in one. Liv nodded back before straightening herself.

"Now come on." She said. "We've got some gladiating to do." She began to walk towards the door.

"Liv." Huck called out. "Thank you."

Olivia smiled back, her eyes full of understanding. She took one last look look around the gloomy office before saying, "You should really water those plants."

Huck gave his version of a smile as Liv exited the room, and followed right behind her.


	2. His Eyes

The next day Olivia strutted into the conference room, where the rest of the gladiators were eating lunch.

"The Josie Marcus team is having a party to celebrate winning Iowa. She expects us to be there... all of us." She nodded to Quinn, who had skipped out on work the past few days. Abby smirked and assured Liv they'ed be there.

That night at the party, Congresswoman Marcus gave a speech, thanking Olivia Pope and Associates for all they had done the past few weeks. Olivia beamed at her team, proud. She noticed Huck was missing, but had to play it off until the speech was over and the attention wasn't on her. After the speech came to an end, Olivia made her way through the sea of political figures. She finally reached an empty corridor, and made her way down the hallway. She frantically searched for Huck, peeking around every corner and trying every door. She neared the end of the hallway when something caught her eye. Around the corner to the left, was Huck. Isolated from the craze of the party, he leaned up against the wall, fidgeting with his hands. She felt a lump form in her throat as she walked cautiously over to him.

"Huck?" she said softly. "Huck, what are you- what's wrong?"

Huck couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. He shifted his weight and simply replied, "I'm fine."

Olivia looked down at his hands. They were shaking. She placed her right hand in his left and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Huck look at me." She said quietly but firmly. "Look at me."

He looked up at her. He had on his usual stoic expression, but his eyes were brimmed with tears that threatened to spill over. His eyes did the talking, and they screamed pain, anger, confusion, sadness, hurt. Liv studied his face, it was tired. Exhausted even.

"Tell me what's wrong."

His expression changed. His eyebrows relaxed and he let out a short breath. A tear escaped from his eyes.

"I can't. Not now, not here. I just... I can't. Not yet." Huck stammered.

"Okay." Liv nodded. "When you're ready to talk, or if you need... someone, the keys are still under the mat. Swing by whenever.

Huck closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. She wriggled free and wrapped both arms around his broad shoulders. He placed his arms awkwardly around her tiny waist, not knowing where was too high or too low.

"Thank you, Liv" he whispered.

She didn't reply. She didn't need to. They just stayed there, safe in each other's arms. Olivia said what she needed to say, what Huck needed to hear. Nothing more, nothing less.

Later that night, after the party had died down quite a bit, Olivia made her way to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine. Her phone buzzed; it was a text message from Huck. He had left the party after talking with Liv.

"Hope Chinese is okay for dinner."

She smiled and typed back: "Sounds so good right now. Be home in 30."

Just as she hit send, Abby tapped her on the back. "You should get home, Liv. You looked drained."

Olivia smiled and held up her glass. "That's what this is for."

Abby took the glass and drank a bit. Her face scrunched up like a baby eating a lemon for the first time. "Ugh. I hate wine. Tastes like sour grape juice. Anyway, you need to get home. Go, Harrison, Quinn and I can take this."

Olivia got up and draped her coat over her arm. "Don't get to wasted." She called as she started towards the door.

"Who me? Never." Abby teased back. Olivia smiled, but didn't break stride until she was at her car.

Olivia jiggled her key in the lock a but before finally being able to swing the door open. Huck was standing near the window, watching the rain fall on D.C. He jumped a bit when the door shut behind Liv.

"Hey." She said as she kicked off her heels and shrugged off her grey trench coat.

"Hey." Huck repeated back to her as he sunk into her couch and flipped on the news. Olivia noticed a glass of wine on the coffee table, a glass he had presumably poured for her.

"Thanks for the food." She said as she plopped down beside him. Huck just nodded, not saying a word. "Huck, is everything alright?" No response. "Huck..." She grabbed his hand, and he flinched but didn't pull away. Instead, he slowly wrapped his fingers around her tiny palm. He turned and said softly,

"I'm okay. I'll be okay. I'm taking care of it, I promise."

"Huck if I opened a door that you can't close-"

"Doors are closed. I'm okay. Really." Huck gave her a reassuring nod. He released her hand and began eating his Chinese take out. She did the same. They sat in silence, not needing to fill it in with noise that wasn't worthy of conversation. After awhile, Olivia noticed that Huck's breathing had become louder and steadier. She glanced over to find that he had fallen asleep, take out in hand. His head was tilted back, his mouth slightly open. She sighed, he needed this. She was right, he was exhausted. She got up to clear dinner, grabbing some pillows and a blanket from the closet and placed them next to Huck. He didn't seem to notice.

Olivia shifted in her bed, tossing and turning unable to sleep. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. 12:51am. Then she felt it. She felt him, standing in the doorway.

"Huck." It was more of a statement than a question. She heard his heavy footsteps and then felt the mattress dip as he laid down beside her. He put his hands behind his head, eyes staring straight up at the white ceiling. She could only imagine his expression as she studied the outline of his face with her eyes.

"Uh, I couldn't sleep so I did a sweep of the place. It was bugged. At least 10, 12 maybe."

Olivia sat up and looked at him, shocked. He went on.

"I got them." He said. "All of them. I checked the bathroom. I checked and rechecked. I promise. You're good now.

"Huck-" Olivia started, but he continued.

"I have 3 computers trying to pinpoint the location of where the feeds were going. Should have it by morning." Olivia laid back down and exhaled. She turned to face him.

"Thank you Huck." She whispered. He turned his head to look at her, his brown eyes tired. Her hand found his and she began tracing the creases and scars on his palm. She drew imaginary circles, letters, numbers. Her finger ran over every crack in his rough hand. It was crazy to her, that these were the hands that took the lives of so many. She just couldn't wrap her head around the thought. "Huck, what does 752 mean?" She heard his breath hitch as he took in a shaky breath, and then he began.

"Uh, that day, do you remember? The day we met?"

Olivia nodded and whispered, "Of course." He continued.

"That day, after you got on your train I sat and watched the people on their way to work. The 7:50 was 2 minutes late. When it came, I sat up and watched. A woman and a little boy got off, and the boy ran over to give me a dollar. I think... I think that boy was my son. It was the first time I'd seen him in almost 6 years. I never saw either of them again." Huck didn't realize he was crying until a tear landed on the corner of his mouth. Olivia moved closer to him, resting her head on his chest just below his neck. She placed her hand on the side of his face and wiped away his tears with her thumb. He reached up and placed his hand over hers, interlocking their fingers. He exhaled a sigh of relief.

"You can stay here. You can stay with me for as long as you need to. I'll take care of you Huck. Please, stay here. Can you do that?" Olivia asked gently.

"I can do that." Huck whispered as his heavy eyes finally won him over, and he drifted off to sleep.


	3. Whiskey

Huck reached around and felt for his gun. He had been following Rowan all day, and was finally getting his chance to confront him. Rowan was a few paces in front of Huck, but Huck was catching up to him. They were in front of an old warehouse that had been abandoned for years now and it was just the two of them. Suddenly Rowan stopped. As did Huck. His hand wrapped around the grip of his gun as Rowan slowly turned around.

"You're getting sloppy, soldier. " Rowan said slyly. "I saw you this morning."

The two were now facing each other now, Huck had his gun pointed at Rowan's head. "Shut up." Huck said shakily.

"I've left you a present inside." He pointed behind him to the warehouse. "All wrapped up and ready to go." Rowan walked toward Huck and grabbed the gun. Within 5 seconds, the gun was taken completely apart and was laying on the ground. "Try not to screw this one up, boy."

And with that, Rowan walked away cooly, got in his car and left. Huck walked towards the empty building.

Huck's mouth was watering. His hands were shaking. His expression was eerily stoic. His eyes darted from the man laying at his feet covered in duct tape, to the drill he held in his hand, and back to the man again. The man tried to scream, but it was muffled by the duct tape around his mouth. Huck crouched down, leaning in close.

"I don't believe we've met. What was your name again? Dylan? Nice to meet you Dylan, I'm Huck. I'm gonna ask you some questions, and you're gonna tell me what I want to know. Okay?" Huck revved the drill and licked his lips. He was going to enjoy this. It had been awhile since he went out, drank the whiskey. But tonight his thirst would be quenched. He had been squirming and vibrating and it wouldn't stop. But tonight it would stop, and he wouldn't be thirsty anymore. Dylan kicked and screamed, breathing heavily, doing anything in his power to prevent Huck from hurting him. But Huck had a look in his eyes. Nothing and no one was going to stop him from this. He wanted... he needed to do this. Torture, killing, this was his heroine, his cocaine. This was his whiskey. And like any junkie, he was going to enjoy the high for as long as he could and then something was going to fall away, something was going to give and he was going to start having fun. This was all he could think about, the high, the rush after the horrible and sickening, because he was rusty, sober.

"I'm sorry Dylan, I really am. But I have to do this." Huck got on his knees and pointed his drill at the man's bicep. He dove in, tearing through skin and muscle. Dylan was hysterical, screaming and crying out in agony. Blood spattered onto Huck's face and chest, enough to make him flinch but not enough to make him stop. Huck's eyes widened, and he licked his lips once again. Sweat beaded his forehead and dripped down his face but Huck just wiped his eyes and kept drilling. Finally, Huck's drill stopped spinning and he pulled it out of the man's arm. There were six small holes where Huck had gone in. The man was bleeding profusely, and Huck watched the blood flow out of the wounds he had left. The man looked pale, his fingers and toes numb and cold.

Dylan was dead. Huck was all alone now. He looked down at his hands, the hands that were covered in blood. Blood from a man he didn't even know.

But something was different. This one felt... different, weird, like it wasn't Huck who had just tortured this man, it was- it was someone else, someone he didn't recognize. He couldn't believe how easily Command did that to him. It was like he flipped a switch and Huck was working for him again, doing whatever Command ordered him to do. It was insane how much control he still had on Huck. Maybe this is why it felt so different, Huck was beginning to realize that there is no escape from B-613, from Command. There's nothing he can do about it. He belongs to them.

Huck looked down at this man he had just killed. His bottom lip began to quiver and a lump formed in his throat.

"I'm sorry." He said as he grabbed a corner of the bloodied plastic tarp. He folded it over the man's head and chest. "I'm sorry." he said as he folded the remaining three corners over the body. "I'm sorry." he said as he removed Dylan's watch from his left wrist.

Huck pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number he had dialed so many times before. It rang twice.

"Huck?" the voice on the other line answered. "Huck where are you, is everything okay?"

"Liv I- Can we- Is it okay if I-" Huck stammered, his voice sounded unsteady even to himself.

"Huck it's okay. You can come over." Olivia finished for him.

"Ok." His voice broke. He took a deep breath.

"Ok." She repeated back to him before hanging up.

Huck knocked three times on Olivia's wooden door. She swung it open and gasped when she saw his blood-stained shirt. She beckoned for him to come in, and Huck obeyed, keeping his hands shoved in his jacket pockets.

"Let me see them." She said softly but firmly, holding out her hands, wanting to inspect his. Huck slowly pulled one hand out, then the other and placed them palms-up in hers. She only looked at his blood covered palms for a few seconds before turning on her heel and strutted to her bedroom.

"Come with me." she called to him. Huck followed her into her bedroom, where she was furiously digging in the back of her closet. When she reappeared, she was holding an old Ramones t-shirt, some underwear, and a pair of flannel pants. He tossed the clothes at him.

"Take a shower." She began, pointing at the bathroom. "And when you're done you can tell me what happened."

Huck nodded and walked sheepishly into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Huck walked into Olivia's living room just as she walked out of her kitchen. She was holding two glasses of water. They both sat on the sofa and she handed one of the glasses to him.

"Huck?" Olivia prompted him.

"...so uh, I fell off the wagon. I let my guard down and I, drank whiskey. I thought I could handle it, stay in control, stay strong. But, this time was different. This time I didn't take the whiskey, it was put in my hand. The decision was taken away from me. And I drank, and drank, and drank. I wish I could say that I hated it, but I didn't. I liked it. Because whiskey is good, whiskey feels, like home. And I just... I couldn't stop. I thought I would be able to but I couldn't."

Olivia put her hand on the side of his face and stroked it with the pads of her thumb. Huck rested his head on her hand. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on steadying his breath. It had become uneven and labored, at some points he was almost gasping for air.

"I'm sorry Liv. I'm so sorry." Huck, the protector, the guard dog, the fighter, the warrior, the soldier, the killer spy, her friend Huck was genuinely sorry. It took a second for her to realize how deep his words ran, how deep his apology dug into their past. She tried to keep the tears that brimmed her eyes at bay, but failed.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. Huck, hey." She lifted his chin to meet her gaze, her eyes full of understanding and concern. "Look at me."

Huck lifted his Basset-Hound eyes to meet Olivia's.

"We're going to get through this. You and me. You can rise above this. You are not a monster, Huck. You are a person. A good person, who made mistakes. We all make mistakes, it's the only way we can grow. I will do anything and everything in my ability to help you fight this. I'm right here, Huck. You are not alone in this. You have me. You have Quinn. You have Harrison. You have Abby. We are your family, and we will take care of you. I will take care of you. Okay?"

Huck took Liv's fragile hand in his strong one and gripped it tight. His face was fixed in the pinched expression he got when he was scared or overwhelmed.

Olivia scooted closer to him. "Come here." she whispered as she pulled him in. She pulled her knees up and sat Indian-style on the sofa. She put one arm around Huck's shoulder and kept his fingers intertwined in hers with her free hand. Her cheek rested on the top of his head. She slowly turned her head and placed the softest of kisses on his temple.

"Will you tell me about him?" Olivia asked quietly.

"Who?"

"Your son… Javier right?"

"We called him Javi. He was 7, maybe 8 the last time I saw hi … I think he had her eyes. Dark blue with green in some spots." Huck yawned and allowed his eyes to fall shut. "He looked so much like her."

His breathing became steadier, less labored. Olivia could feel him relax in her arms, she could feel him letting go of the day. He needed this, Huck needed to step back, take a breather. For once, just sit and take it all in. And he could do that with Olivia because she made him feel safe, she made him believe that he really was a gladiator in a suit, that he was worth of a second chance. And he was, he truly was.


	4. Perfect Imperfections

It had been yet another busy day at Olivia Pope and associates, and with Olivia Pope herself at Camp David, things didn't run as smoothly as they should have. Even with Harrison in charge, everyone seemed to be off a beat. It had been storming all day, the windows reflected the dark grey sky that hung over D.C. like a blanket. The office felt gloomy and dull, even though there was never actually a dull moment. Today's client was a man named Thomas Walker, who worked for the Treasury. He had been caught dealing cocaine on federal grounds.

Harrison was busy handling the PR bit of this scandal, talking to reporters and journalists who had congregated outside the Walker residence. Abby was working directly with Thomas, trying to find any and all of the people on the other side of the drug sales. It was a slow and painstaking process, but she knew that with this evidence, they could attempt to change the media's narrative, knock the news off their feet and hit hard again before they have the chance to fully regain their footing. Huck and Quinn were trying to get into the server to which all of the security cameras with evidence of the drug trafficking were filtered into. They sat side by side in the conference room, typing away on their laptops.

"Want some coffee?" Quinn asked as she stood up and started toward the coffee maker.

"Uh, sure." Huck said back without looking up from his screen. Quinn poured them both a strong cup of coffee. She loaded hers with cream and sugar, but knew Huck liked his coffee black. She walked back to the table, carful not to spill anything on her royal blue button-down and grey slacks. She handed him his cup, but Huck couldn't get a good grip on it. The glass mug fell to the ground and shattered.

"Shit!" Huck murmured as he bent down to pick up the broken glass. Quinn bent down beside him to help clean up the mess.

"Careful, the glass is everywhere." he said. But just as he got his last word out, Quinn's hand landed on a shard of glass, slicing her palm. She quickly stood up and looked around for something to hold against her bleeding hand. Huck stood, grabbed her uninjured hand and guided her to the bathroom.

"I think there's a first aid kit in here somewhere..." Huck said, half to himself, half to Quinn, who stood over the sink running water over her hand. He recovered the first aid kit and brought it over to Quinn. "Let me see your hand."

"I don't think it's that bad Huck-" Quinn started to protest, but he interrupted her.

"You don't need stitches, but you should bandage it." Huck stated as he rummaged through the contents of the first aid kit. He pulled out some gauze, Neosporin, a roll of bandage, some medical tape and a pair of scissors. Gently, he took her hand in his and began applying the Neosporin. Her breath hitched when their hands made contact; Huck's touch was so gentle, so careful. Huck was so focused on the task at hand, literally. He felt like it was his responsibility to help Quinn. In a way, he was like an older brother, the Batman to her Robin, her mentor. Huck had taken Quinn under his wing from day one, teaching her and guiding her, trying his hardest to steer her in the right direction.

Quinn looked at Huck as he worked, studied the details of his face. His eyebrows furrowed, his mouth in a straight line. She noticed, for the first time, all of his perfect imperfections. Quinn felt a little more for Huck than just brother-sister. It wasn't a feeling easily recognizable to Quinn, it was more an ache that came from her core, somewhere deep inside.

"There." Huck said as he secured the bandage around her hand with medical tape, satisfied with his work. Quinn inspected her hand before dropping it at her side.

"Thanks Huck."

She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Several thoughts ran through her head, the most significant one being "Shit, did I really just do that?"

"Um, sorry I just… sorry." Quinn stumbled over her own words.

Huck gazed at her, and before he could convince himself otherwise, he was leaning in for another. This time on her lips. It lasted for a few seconds, and was packed with emotion. Passion, unsureness, sincerity, wonder.

They pulled away, and Quinn flashed a grin. Huck gave a hint of a smile.

"That was…" Quinn started.

"Good. It felt… good." Huck finished for her.

"Yeah, it felt nice." Quinn replied. "Uh, we better-"

"Go, yeah we should get going."

"Uh, thank you, again." Quinn said.

"No, thank you." Huck said back.


	5. Coffee's On Me

I checked my watch for the umpteenth time in the last 10 minutes, pacing back and forth on the platform near the edge of the tracks. I checked my watch again. 6:41am. My train should have been here 10 minutes ago. I leaned out over the tracks and looked down the line to see if the train was anywhere close. He must have noticed.

"Uh, they're fixing the green line at Petworth, connecting red line trains are stuck waiting at Fort Totten, which puts the next train to Shady Grove about twenty seconds away."

I looked to see who was speaking. When I finally spotted him, I felt stuck. My heart skipped a beat, my feet somehow planted themselves into the ground, my head started spinning. _His eyes..._ They were like nothing I had ever seen before. His face was covered in thick brown hair, but his eyes killed me. They were so... sad. So incredibly sad. It was like all of his emotions hung there, in those brown eyes for the world to see. Only the world wasn't there. I was just us. It felt like it was just us.

"Thank you." It was all I could think to say. The train, sure enough, pulled up twenty seconds later. "Look at that, just like you predicted. You here tomorrow?"

"Everyday." He nodded.

"Coffee's on me." I slipped a dollar into his paper cup. I took a few seconds to study his face, the face underneath all the beard. The face that screamed pain, suffering, battle. I knew, he was a fighter. A warrior. A Gladiator.


	6. Panic Attack

**Sorry it's been awhile, but I'm back! Enjoy :)**

"Classic spycraft goes all the way back to the Abwehr."

"They're Nazi intelligence."

"Whoever did this is old-school."

"Is that morse code?"

"It's not that simple, but it's the same principle. No matter high-tech things get, analog's always the best way to go."

"What's it say?"

"Well, this right here- that's 'Protect them'"

"Protect who?"

"Well, these are names."

"Names of who?"

"Spies, I think."

"Spies?"

"How can you tell they're spies?"

"Because this name here- that's me."

"Postmark on the envelope reads Ann Arbor, stamped 2 days ago."

"There's an A.P. story about a public suicide that day. A man shot himself in the head, right out on the street, broad daylight. A Robert Brooks."

"Ring a bell, Huck?"

"Here's a photo."

"That's Crosby."

"Who's Crosby, or who was-"

"He was my case officer in B-613."

"What's B-613?"

"Quinn."

"This is bad. This very bad."

**/**

Huck walked quickly and silently to his office. Olivia turned to her colleagues.

"Keep digging." She stated before following Huck.

**/**

"Huck-"

"This is very, very bad."

I know, Huck, I know."

"No I don't think you do. We are in my wheelhouse now, okay B-613 was a top secret, off the books program funded by the CIA. I'm supposed to be a ghost."

"Huck-"

"If my name, and not my real name but Huck, the alias that goes with this life, at Pope and Associates, if my name is on a list, it's time for me to go." Huck was breathing at a rapid pace, almost too fast.

"Huck, look at me. Focus on me. We can fix this okay? We'll figure something out. We always figure something out."

Huck was almost gasping for air now, taking short, ragged breaths and letting out even shorter ones. He began to feel dizzy, like the room was spinning. His eyes wanted to roll back but he forced them forward.

"Huck? What's wrong? Huck, talk to me. What's going on?"

"I th- I think I'm having a panic attack."

His legs felt like jello, and his knees buckled. Unable to stand on his own, he grabbed onto his desk chair, but it flipped under his weight and Huck nearly fell with it. He felt Olivia grab onto his arm and guide his to the corner in between the wall and the shelves that were stacked with tech equipment. He slid down the wall and landed hard on the cold floor. Olivia knelt down in front of him.

"Okay, try and think about something else. Anything else."

"Like what?" Huck stammered in between gasps.

"Happy things, good things, friends, family. Us. Huck, think about us. Try and slow your breathing."

"I can't. I can't."

Olivia grabbed his face with both of her hands and lifted it up so that he could see that this, that she was real. He was damp with sweat and was still gasping for breath with a desperate expression, panic in his eyes.

"Shh, shh… Huck look at me, look at me, shh. It's okay, it's okay."

"Liv…"

"Crosby sent the list to me, the check is in my name too. So whatever this is, whatever I'm supposed to protect you against is in my wheelhouse, not yours and that means we can fix this.

"Liv…"

"Huck, trust me. Let me take care of this. Let me take care of you. Okay?" She stroked his face with her thumb and wiped a tear that had escaped. With every stroke, his breathing seemed less jagged, less panicky, more controlled. The gasping ceased, and he finally began to let her in, to allow her to see through the tough expression he constantly wore to cover up all the pain and fear he held inside.

"Okay." He whispered.

"Okay." She repeated back. She gave him one final, reassuring nod and stood up. She leaned over and offered her hands to Huck. He took them, grateful for her support as he slowly stood up. She squeezed his hand gently.

"Everything is going to be alright. I promise."

"And if it's not?"

"Well, then, I guess we go down together. You and me. Just like how it used to be. And how it always will be."


	7. Keep Going

I can't sleep.

I was hoping it would have gone away by now, but it hasn't. I can't close my eyes because every time I do I'm back. Back in the hole. Back in the basement of the Pentagon. Back in Union Station. Back in the crate. Sometimes it happens when I'm awake. When I'm at work. I think they see it too. Harrison, Abby, Quinn, Olivia, they see it, they see me. I see that look on Olivia's face, the one she gets when she knows something is wrong. I wish I could make it stop, for her, for them, for me. But I can't. I can't make it stop. I can't make it go away. It's never going to go away. Some days are worse than others. Some days I can't stop my hands from shaking, my heart pounds like it's trying to break free from my chest, cold sweats. I can't breathe, it feels like I'm drowning like I'm... being held just under the surface, so close I can almost get my head out. But every time I try to lift my head from the water to catch my breath, it feels like someone is pushing me back under.

Someone knocked on my office door.

"Huck, you in there?"

I got up to open the door for Olivia.

"Hey." she exhaled

"What's wrong, do you need my help with anything? I could-"

"No, no everything's fine." she cut me off. "I just, I don't know, I worry. That's all."

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine."

"No, no Huck you're not fine. Okay, I see you here, everyday. You come to work, you go through the motions but, you're not fine. You haven't been fine for a long time. I don't know what happened, or what is happening, but I want to help. I want to help, but you have to let me in."

I looked at her, I saw the concern in her brown eyes. Her lips were pursed, her arms crossed. I knew she was right. She knew me, she saw me, she was really the only person I could really open up to without judgment. Nothing I shared with her could destroy us.

"Okay." I said, barely audible.

"Okay." She repeated back. "Talk to me, Huck. Anything you need to say you say. No questions asked. No judgement. I'm not going anywhere, you got me."

I wanted to let her in, but I didn't know where to start. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It was happening again, I was being pushed under the water. I exhaled, my breath sounded shaky even to me. I felt her place her hand on my cheek and I moved my hand over hers.

"I feel like… like I can't get away from all the horrible, all the fear. Like I can't even breathe. I always feel like something terrible is about to happen. And it's not just a feeling, it's-"

"Like you're drowning."

"Yeah."

"If you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last second before you black out, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in? If you choose to hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time right?"

"More time to feel like your head is exploding, more time to be in agonizing pain?"

"If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?"

"But what if it just gets worse? I mean, what if it's agony now, and then it's just hell later on?"

"Huck, if you're going through hell… keep going."

I closed my eyes. Her words rang in my ears.**_ Keep going._** I thought about all of the terrible things that had happened the past few years.

Being taken from Union Station and being put in a hole.

_**Keep going.**_

Being tortured by the U.S. Government, beaten and water-boarded until I wanted them to just kill me because it would mean the pain was over.

_**Keep going.**_

Charlie locking me in that crate in the storage facility, and then not being able to come back to reality for days.

_**Keep going.**_

Losing my family because I disobeyed orders from Command.

_**Keep going.**_

Becky killing those innocent people just because of me.

_**Keep going.**_

Everyone in this office has been through hell and back. We all have a story. We are all damaged. We all needed saving. But we are all here now, we did it, we made it. And we can do it again. All we need to do is keep going.


	8. Family

He had been sitting there for 3 days now. All alone at the head of the table in the conference room. Silent. Expressionless. Still. He just sat there, he sat there with his hands in his lap and his head facing forward. He sat there and let the days pass. He said nothing, did nothing. He was wasting away in front of us and we couldn't help him. We couldn't get through to him. Everyone had tried, me, Abby, Harrison, Olivia, even David. Still, nothing.

3 days turned into 4, 4 days turned into 5 and still, nothing. Today was the 6th.

I stayed after everyone had gone home for the night. Well, everyone except Huck. It was just us. I didn't want to just… leave him here, all alone. I couldn't give up on him, I wouldn't give up on him. Not yet. Not now. I went and made us both a cup of tea. I opened the door to the conference room to find him just as we found him 6 days ago. Silent. Expressionless. Still. I set the mug down in front of him, knowing he wouldn't take it, but I set it down anyway. I sat down next to him, watching the steam rise from his mug and disappear into the air. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and tried again.

"Hey, Huck. I made you some tea, but I don't really know if you even like tea. I don't know, you just don't seem like the tea type of guy. Anyway, you can drink it or you can not drink it. Either way I just figured you might want something warm." I stopped myself from rambling any further and took another deep breath. "Six days. For six days I've watched you sit here, motionless, eerily stoic. I've watched as everyone tried to bring you back, you know, back from… whatever this is. For six days I watched them try and fail. And I think… I think you can hear us, but whatever is keeping you from finding your way back to us is gripping you so tight that you stopped trying to get away from it." I looked down at my hands, which were trembling in my lap. I balled them into fists and forced myself to continue. "Do you remember that day, my first day here? You found me crying in the bathroom. You told me things that I never had the courage to admit to myself. And the craziest part is that you were right. You were right about all of it, everything. I never told you this, but I was going to quit, I was going to leave and jump on the first flight back to California, back to my old life. Why? Because in my mind that was the easiest way out. That was the simplest way to escape, to physically remove myself from the insaneness. But I didn't. You didn't let me. You convinced me to stay and so that's what I did. I stayed, and now look where we are. You helped me become part of this amazing family. Broken, yes… but amazing. I had no past, no family to go back to, and as far as I was concerned, no future. I could have let that get to me, I could have let that eat me alive. You didn't let me. So… that's really all I'm doing now. I'm trying to stop you from letting whatever this is eat you alive. I'm trying to stop it from ruining you, from breaking you. Because despite popular belief, you are not broken. You're cracked, dented, bent, but not broken. And you can fix a dent, cement a crack. You can escape the grip of your past. It's not too late, it's never too late." I took his hand in mine and gripped it tight, needing to somehow get his attention. "Huck, I don't know what happened 6 days ago that suddenly triggered this, I don't know, I don't need to know. But I need you to come back to us. You have to come back to us. You have to come back to me. Please Huck." My eyes stung with salty tears that threatened to spill over, but at this point I didn't care. "Don't let it get to you, don't let it eat you alive. Don't let yourself slip into the abyss, because if you do, I don't know if I would ever be able to bring you back to me. I need you Huck. I need you to come back to me. You are my family, my soldier, my warrior, you are my gladiator. And I can't…" My voice broke and the tears spilled over as I blinked.

Suddenly, I felt his hand slowly wrap around mine tighter and tighter. I looked up at him to see that his eyes were brimmed with tears. He licked his pale, cracked lips, and blinked the tears away. His eyebrows were furrowed, then softened a bit as he slowly came back to life. He tore his eyes from the spot on the wall he had been staring blankly at for the last six days and met my gaze. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat was so dry from not speaking for almost a week nothing came out.

"Hey." I whispered, hopeful. "The tea… the tea will help, you know, with your throat." Huck nodded and reached for the mug. He brought it up to his lips and took a cautious sip. As he swallowed, his eyes fluttered shut and he tilted his head back a bit, his throat relieved of it's dryness. He exhaled slowly.

"Quinn?" He whispered.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Thank you."

I nodded, giving him a sheepish smile. He continued.

"No, I mean it. Thank you. I needed that. I don't know what happened I just… couldn't bring myself to do anything. Talk, eat, sleep, it all just didn't seem worth it anymore. So… thank you. For pulling me back. Thank you."

"Huck, you're the closest thing I have to family. I would do anything for you, you know that right?"

"Yeah, yeah I do. Family." The word rolled off his tongue leaving a melancholy taste in his mouth. Family: Amazing. Broken. And yet, it was all they could ever ask for.


End file.
